The Lonely Gods
by Pliva
Summary: Heather Conway never had belief. Then, after an incident on a dark street, she found  something to believe in. 10th Doctor, Simms!Master. Oneshot. Gen.


Heather Conway wasn't religious. It's not that she didn't believe in God, it was that she really didn't believe in anything. She knew there was a truth, she knew it was out there, but she didn't know what it was. It was hard to explain how she felt to others, when she wasn't even sure herself. She was, for all intents and purposes, waiting.

She lived a normal life and at the ripe old age of twenty-five she was working in a publishing house. It was the perfect job- filled with books and only a few blocks from her apartment. Nights she worked late, nights like tonight, she walked home. Now, in mid-February, she was bundled up in her hat and coat and gloves. She was stepping out of the building and wrapping a scarf around her neck when someone grabbed her. No, not someone.

Something.

She couldn't see it, she could only feel the freezing cold radiating from its body, making the cold temperatures seem tropical by comparison. Some kind of appendage was wrapped around her body (_Felt like pincers, large and sharp and dear god this was not how she wanted to die_) and she could hear its whistling, wheezing breath. Heather whimpered as a hard black claw clamped itself over her mouth. Now she couldn't even scream, and she'd die as the world moved on.

"Pretty lady," the monster cooed in her ear, sounding like dry leaves and rustling paper. "Be my shield, pretty lady."

Heather shivered and squirmed, but she was held tight. It was breathing cold, short puffs against her ear. It seemed to be waiting for something.

They stood there, unmoving, for what seemed like forever. And then, in the distance, she heard foot steps. Two sets of footsteps, one that seemed to scuff but was still quick and upbeat, and a second that was hard and precise. Heather saw their shadows before they rounded the corner, her eyes straining to see.

They were two men. They seemed ordinary enough, if an odd pairing. The first had on a long tan coat that was unbuttoned and floated behind him like a noble cape. He had on a tight blue suit and tie, with worn red trainers tied snug to his feet. His hair brown hair was stuck up at impossible angles and his eyebrows were arched, moving with each breath as he took in the sight before him. The other man seemed cooler and collected, his own coat merely reaching his knees in a solid black with what appeared to be red silk lining. He had only a simple black suit and tie with a crisp white shirt. The only thing they had in common were their eyes, bright and sharp, like cut diamonds.

"A captive won't help you," the second man said, his eyes flicking over Heather in a disinterested way. His companion seemed more interested in her, his brown eyes studying her face for a few seconds.

"You'll risk an innocent's life?" the monster wheezed. "I've heard the stories, of the merciful Doctor and his never ending quest to save every life he encounters."

"The stories are wrong," the second man said, his mouth tight as he spat out each word, as if the very idea was an affront to his soul. "I do not save every life. I am not always merciful."

"He's watched me burn alive," the second man said. "He burned our planet and carefully flicked countless other civilizations out of the sky like dust." The man glanced at his friend, at this Doctor. "That's what they are to us, you know. Dust."

"Master." The word was a title, a name, and said with warning conveyed through hard, weary eyes.

"Is she dust?" the monster asked, clutching Heather tighter. She whimpered as the hard surface of it dug into her skin. "You love humans, they are your chosen children."

"They are defended," the Doctor corrected. He nodded at them. "Put her down."

"And then you'll take me back to my planet, where my people will execute me?" It demanded, voicing rising to a harsh guttural whisper.

"Your crimes are your own," the Doctor said softly, but so far from gently. "Do not make that poor girl suffer for them."

"She will die with me before I go, Doctor," the monster warned.

"No." It wasn't a request, it was a command. The Doctor drew himself up, and suddenly Heather knew this man wasn't human. There was power etched into every line on his face and was echoed in the way he held himself. "Let her go. _Now."_

The monster clucked in response and seemed to shiver before the appendages around Heather loosened and she sprang away, putting as much distance between herself and the monster in the few stumbling steps she could manage. She turned back to look at it and saw only a shining black exo-skeleton silhouetted in the lamplight.

"Are you all right?" the Doctor asked her, a quite sympathy reflected in his eyes.

The creature moved and the other man, the Master called a sharp, "Doctor!" before something quick and dark was shot out of the monster. The Doctor gave a surprised shout and fell to the ground before jerking on the ground with a pained hiss.

"You forfeited your trial," the Master said, withdrawing something from his coat.

The creature gave a rasping laugh. "You are my judge?"

"Your executioner," the Master said before he shot an orange light at the thing. It went up in flames, filling the night air with the sound of it's pained keening, a high-pitched buzz just at the far end of Heather's hearing range.

"Doctor?" the Master now asked, crouching beside the Doctor.

"Acidic saliva," the Doctor explained, slowly sitting upright. "I'm fine, it's healing." The Doctor held up his hand to the lamp light and Heather could see angry red marks, but they faded even as she stared at them.

"You're healing faster," the Master observed, holding a hand out. "I told you the "Lonely God" act is better with two."

"I'm not a "Lonely God", Master," the Doctor said as he was pulled upright. He brushed a few pieces of gravel off his coat and suit before turning to Heather.

"Are you all right?" he asked her again, any severity he had with his companion melting away.

"I'm fine," Heather managed before holding out her hand. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Miss...?"

"Conway. Heather Conway."

"Conway?" the Doctor repeated, looking surprised and amused and somewhat gleeful. He glanced up. "This isn't King's Publishing is it?"

"Yes," Heather replied. "I work here."

The Doctor looked pleased before he leaned closer and tapped the inside of his nose. "Mum's the word, but I'll bet you end up owning this place. Bet you'd do some good with all that money."

"Doctor," the Master said, exasperation and what Heather swore was fondess coloring his voice. "We can't tell everyone we meet everything about themselves."

"I said 'Mum's the word' didn't I?" the Doctor replied, but he gave a little wave and a wink good-bye to Heather before he continued on amicably, shoving his hand in his pockets and whistling a tune. The Master rolled his eyes and followed him, neither turning back to look at Heather. She didn't move until they rounded the corner and she was once more alone on the dark street.

There, illuminated only by the dull brown-orange of the street light, she looked up at the night sky as it began to snow.

"Thank you," she whispered. She had been waiting her entire life to find a truth, to find something to believe in. Now she found one. No, two.

For the rest of her life, Heather Conway would always believe in the Lonely Gods as they slipped through the Universe.


End file.
